


A Controlled Collapse

by Eipthor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rigel Black Series - murkybluematter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eipthor/pseuds/Eipthor
Summary: The Facade is doomed to crack. Harry needs someone there to catch her when she falls.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 78
Collections: Rigel Black Exchange Round 1





	A Controlled Collapse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Astra_Across_the_Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astra_Across_the_Stars/gifts).



Draco’s hand was clenched tight around hers, eyes glued to the monitors. A whole year of dragons and drowning was finally coming to it’s inevitable end. Delacour had been medically withdrawn half an hour ago, knocked unconscious by a new variety of venomous tulip the seventh years had been developing. Owens was still at least ten minutes from the obstacle course’s end and Rigel had the cup in sight. Her best friend was moments away from becoming champion. 

Rigel darted around a tree, almost tripping to dodge a spew of fire it flung at her. Her grip tightened as she waited for her chest to unclench. Finally this would be over. Rigel would be champion, just like everyone, the school, the Prophet, Delacour, everyone but Rigel, insisted was inevitable. Rigel would be safe and victorious and the blood debate would finally be over, once and for all. Rigel’s feed honed in on the goblet. His hand reached out and

Rigel wasn’t on the platform. Owen’s had been portkeyed to his place, just left of center on the podium, his feed cut, half mud covered and panting. Delacour was already waiting beside him, cleaned and healed of her injuries. But Rigel’s space was empty.

There was a flash of light and then over the confused rumbling of the crowd there was the sound of an explosion. Looking up, Rigel’s feed was still going. His monitor was filled with spellfire. The spells were going too fast to follow. There had to be at least half a dozen people firing spells at him.

Draco’s fine blunted nails dug into her and she looked over to find him hunched. His eyes were fixed to the screen and he was hyperventilating. Narcissa was wrapped around him, whispering into his ear while Lucius scanned the audience for a path out. 

The footage shuttered to black for a moment, yanking Pansy’s eyes back to Rigel. He had moved. He was now clearly in a graveyard. It was quiet for a moment before with a shout and a burst of purple flame the spellfire resumed. Rigel’s wand flung out three quick spells, one of which she recognized as a freezing spell before ducking back behind a large grave. Then the footage warped to black once, 

Twice, 

Thrice,

There was a man. He had dark red hair and was bleeding from the throat. Rigel’s hand was on a knife and the knife was in his throat and he was bleeding so much. 

Rigel fired a spell around the man. He was grasping his neck and tilting forward.

The screen twisted.

Rigel was carving runes in the dirt with the knife. 

Twist to black

Back behind a headstone 

There was an explosion. 

Pansy couldn’t breathe.

Rigel had killed someone.

Rigel was going to die.

She couldn’t breathe. 

She couldn’t

Twist and Rigel was running towards a scarred man. He was casting at her and he was running closer. The knife was swinging and 

The scarred man was on the ground with his hip and right arm shattered and Rigel was running. 

A twist.

He ran into someone.

A twist.

She couldn’t breathe.

Rigel was throwing a wand arm away from him and-

A twist 

There were so many bodies on the ground. 

How could there be so many bodies? 

Where was Draco’s hand? 

She couldn’t breathe. 

Rigel was focused on someone, a boy.

She was running towards him, ducking and weaving. Was that a green light?

He was firing so fast, just as fast as Rigel and Rigel was running towards him, tackling him to the ground. His hands clawed at him before he screamed. Legilimens.

And then the screen was still, just focussed on the face. His eyes were so red, and so angry. His skin was pulled and warped. Sections of his skin were noticeably lighter than the rest, separated from the natural pigment by strained pink lines. Shocks of brown hair sprung out among the stringy blond. It was like polyjuice gone wrong, stuck stretched in the middle of the transformation. And with that thought she recognized something of her cousin Barty in the panting of his mouth. But if Barty was the blond, who was the brunette with such red eyes. 

Someone screamed. Rigel’s fingers were digging into his skin and they weren’t moving. There was still the sound of spellfire, brilliant glows casting across his face. Who else was there? Had the aurors arrived? It was so loud. How would she know what was happening? What if something happened to Rigel? How would she know? If he died, would his tracker still keep showing footage of the horrible boy’s face?

Someone was shouting for Harry. Someone in the crowd? Someone with Rigel? How could this be happening? 

Rigel was jostled, but he just kept staring at the boy. Another jostle and she realized the boy underneath him was still struggling. The image heaved forward and a glob of spittle fell onto the boy's chin. There were sounds of gagging and retching before a dark fat ruby fell to the boy’s chest. They strabbled for it for a moment before Rigel grabbed hold and stabbed it into the shoulder below him. 

Blood gushed from the wound, but the flesh seemed to be warping around it. Sinews pulled it closer, dragging it deeper as the flesh healed around it. The process stopped all to soon with fresh brown skin sealed around the ruby, still half protruding between the shoulder and collar bone. Rigel looked up and and it was the smooth face of a young man, perhaps twenty-five. He smirked and his green eyes shone.

“Like them?”

________________________________________

Leo had made a promise to Harry. He would abide by her secrecy on the condition that he be informed if she ever got stuck in troubles over her head. The truce lasted for all of a year before Leo came to realize Harry had no sense of when she was in breach of her side of the bargain. When she first returned to the Alleys for the summer there was a wrongness to her magic. It was agitated and yet tightly bound. The Harryness of her magic was somehow dampened and something strange nestled in it’s coils. She watched the corners and the doors. She let slip that she had faced dragon fire, but it was clear she’d never meant him to know. Nor had she wanted him to find out about the time she’d spent in the Shroud’s coven, when she should have been safely housed at school, or home, or in her secret apartment. She took her dueling lessons more seriously than ever that summer, and after his nearly disastrous final bout of the tournament had asked for a knife lesson on what to do if she ever met an opponent who truly meant to harm her. 

Though she never spoke of it, whatever dark cloud that hung over Harry soon cleared in the summer sun. Bright and busy days had done wonders for her recovery. Still he couldn’t allow her to go back to school with no guarantee of whatever hurt her not happening again. It was clear that she would only react in anger if she perceived his protection to interfere with her secrets safety. So, he would have to protect her from outside her notice. 

Harry was crafty and magically sensitive. She was perceptive enough to spot any minders or tracers he put by her eventually, but Leo knew her blind spot.

Harry had shot up in height over the summer and so it was only a matter of time before she went shopping for her fourth year supplies, and along with them a new set of boots. And not just any boots. Potion Master's boots. Black dragon-leather boots. Boots covered in nonslip charms, and anticorrosive charms, warming and cooling and cushioning charms, charms to prevent moisture within and without. Boots with charms enough to cover the notice of just a few extra in the sole of the left boot. Boots that could only be found at Harsley Haberdashery, owned by Ellory Harsley, who got his start as a shopboy and ward of the court, who was only too happy to do a favor for the young king. 

It was nothing too intrusive, just two spells, tied to a charm on the hilt of his smallest knife. The first was a charm tied to wellbeing, tied to a dozen different circumstances in the vicinity of Harry’s boots. It was designed to be an occasional buzz against his ankle that would turn into a heavy thrum if Harry’s magic became more agitated or exhausted. If there was enough dark magic cast near it, it would vibrate hard enough to shake his leg. If it sensed blood loss, his leg would shake firmly for thirty seconds, enough time to wrap up a conversation and cast a disillusionment, before the activation of the secondary charm. 

The second charm was a locator tied to a specialty portkey for which Regulus Black had charged an extortionate amount, along with a vow of secrecy. It would work through up to level three wards and what wards it couldn’t go through, it would put him just outside. 

All of this had felt like perhaps an over reaction until September first came. The usually still knife on his leg had by dinner reached a steady hum. When by the end of the week there was no change, Leo resigned himself to Harry’s constant unease at school. 

It ebbed and flowed over the course of the week. He now knew her more magic intensive classes were Teusdays and Thursdays around four his time. Most evenings starting around seven there was another hours long burst of magical use, presumably from her independant potions. 

All of this, while less then what he’d hoped for her, became fairly benign to him over the first month. He tried to write her letters whenever the vibrating got particularly incessant. Some of his closer members of the court had noticed his leg tapping more and Rispah had taken to tapping her fingers to remind him to slow his jittering. 

Overall it had been fine until the end of October when the blade positively shook. It had happened once before, but only for a few hours. The aftershocks of this second event were still thrumming at breakfast the next day. 

He hadn’t heard anything from his eyes in AIM, though he supposed his eyes hadn’t noticed the dragon incident either. It was his father who gave him the solution.

The Aldermaster was a man of routine. That morning as every morning found him with his face buried in his morning tea further ensconced behind the day’s Prophet. His eyes were not yet sharpened to the day. They wandered dazedly about the main sections of the page, and what criticism his mind could yet form from the content would then drift up into the room, carried by the steam from his cup. Leo was listening in as always to see if his father confided anything important to his breakfast. This morning had been:

“Blasted tournament, Department’s already halfway to bankrupt.”

“Alchemists’re scheming something. Have to let Jensen know.”

“Rigel Black in the tournament? Should be Potter if anything. They just don’t care about potions anymore.”

Mrs. Hearst set down her toast to hmm a “Yes, dear” in reply. 

Leo dug further into his oatmeal as he processed this. Harry was obviously afraid for her cousin in the tournament. The tournament was only on its face ministry affair on its face. At its core it was steeped in the SOW party’s politics. She was right to be concerned, but there was nothing he could do to help ease her. Black was a member of Pureblood society outside the Court's protection. Through his duties as King he could protect the Alley’s from the ministry’s influence, but to interact with Magical Britain’s public politics was well outside the Rogue’s purview. He’d have to write her another letter. Even if he couldn't help her cousin, he could at least provide a distraction. Still he was writing her a worrying amount for how early it was in the year. 

His knife went back to its regular rhythms after that. Her reply had been less than reassuring, but he supposed that was to be expected. Her anxieties were increasing as the first task drew near which he supposed was also to be expected. 

The evening of the task found him disguised with his eyes roaming the crowd. He had brought half a dozen of his best young pickpockets to watch. He and Marek were keeping an eye on them while Rispah kept things in order back at the Alleys. 

The event was better than he had anticipated. The party had done a good job seeding the event with a who’s who officials, celebrities, and foreign press. The head bands were a particularly clever bit of magic. The task itself was much more dangerous than Leo had thought Dumbledore would allow on his grounds, but the audience was eating it up. 

He was surprised not to see Harry here to wish her cousin well along with Lord and Lady Potter, but he knew his Harry was not the same Harry with her parents or with her odd Hermione friend. Harry was at her school tonight, maintaining her secrets, though from her worrying against his calf, he knew she would rather be here.

Hermione and Black had met up now and were making swift work through the forest. She was a good addition to the court, willing to play by the rules and keep to her own business, but still quite a talented young healer according to his mother. She seemed to be aware and accepting of some of Harry’s secrecy too, which he supposed was as much as he could ask for in a friend for her. 

It all seemed to be going well for them until the werewolf. The unicorn was a clever solution. Still, it was clear the wolf wasn’t meant to be there tonight, and agitation ticked at his teeth. 

It was all going well until his leg half collapsed under him. 

That should not have happened. Harry was in America tonight. She should not have known her cousin was being attacked. Her magic should not have reacted to her cousin being attacked. 

Did they share some sort of bond? But that was impossible, not one strong enough for reactions to cross the oceans that quickly. 

He couldn’t process this. He gave a charming grin and helped to steady the woman he’d tripped into while Lukas’ hand flickered into her purse. He gave a self deprecating laugh, shaking his ankle for emphasis. Her husband was not amused, nor would he be when he noticed his absent watch tomorrow. 

Leo’s eyes flickered to the screen where a fortus contained the wolf. Hermione’s eyes were darting between the wolf and Black.

There on Black’s feet were his Harry’s boots. 

Leo knew. 

He stayed to see her safely out of the forest, and then let Marek know he was heading in early and to keep an eye on the kids. He had a lot to think about. 

_______________________

Knowing Harry’s secret kept Leo very busy. 

It didn’t surprise him as much as it should have. It wasn’t hard to imagine a young Harry desperate enough to make her mark on the potions community to concoct a plan like this. It made sense of so many things. She didn’t trust her parents because she didn’t want them to be culpable. Hermione knew her best friend very well, that best friend just wasn’t Harry. Harry talked so oddly about Black, because sometimes she was talking about her cousin and others herself. Even the rhythms on his leg made more sense in hindsight. He had not noticed until now the lack of a time difference between their two schedules. 

Unfortunately, Leo’s prior preparations for a Harry in danger seemed ill equipped for the sheer intrigue she had gotten herself into. The few perfunctory eyes the Court maintained in the ministry were now vital. He needed to know what the upcoming tasks were. He needed to know if anyone else knew, if Riddle knew, there was an extra half blood competing. He needed a game plan for when this inevitably blew up in Harry’s face. No matter how well maintained she claimed her secret was, it couldn’t survive this amount of media attention. 

Harry was going to win this tournament. She was clearly more talented and the SOW party would have it no other way. In a few months she was going to become the most popular person in the country. 

So Leo gathered more spies. A few new paper boys playing gofer at the prophet. Two of Rispahs sharpest girls had interviews for secretarial positions at the ministry. William’s brother was quietly retained to keep an open ear, and to research any of the old laws that held reference to the court. 

He gathered allies, because if Harry was going up against dragons, his one man rescue operation wasn’t going to cut it. Marek and Flint had been happy to sign on if it was to help Harry. Harry had made quite a few friends for herself in the Alleys, and while he didn’t approve of Ralph or the Shrouds, he was in too far over his head to care. At least he didn’t have to commission more of Black’s portkeys. If Harry was to be in danger, her location would be broadcast across the nation for him to find. 

He gathered Rispah’s ladies. Leo couldn’t just interfere in ministerial business. The Rogue’s place was to skirt and shirk, but Harry’s crimes were too big to hide in the Alleys without the ministry burning the world down looking for her. Harry would have to go to trial, where the only way Leo could protect her was from his place as Rogue King. If the court was to accept being outed for Harry, she needed a true place in the court. He had been trying to ease Harry into taking Rispah’s place as Queen, looking out for the women and children. She was well established in the Alleys. People knew she was under his protection and she had done good work for the school and at Maywell. But she had had little interaction with the ladies of the Court, so he would need to barter for their approval in letting Rispah step down. Harry didn’t have to be in the court, so long as he and the ladies recognized her, she would have the legal protections as Rogue Queen. 

Her engagement to her cousin would be broken when this came out, Leo outranking the heir Black, but if it came to that Harry would have bigger worries. 

Leo scrambled silently for months getting her protection ready. When she reached for the cup, he thought for a moment it was all for nothing. All happily over. But she wasn’t on the podium. His knife knocked him into Marek. He didn’t recognize where she was. The screen was too dark. Then there was spell fire. He grabbed Marek and Ralph and let his knife pull.

________________________________

There was blood and fighting, but that was where Leo shone. He couldn’t find Harry. It was chaos and his arm was bleeding. It had been going on for barely ten minutes when all his opponents froze. He stupefied his for good measure, but it didn’t seem to matter. 

The other side, those that could, were all kneeling, then bowing toward a brown skinned boy in the center of the graveyard. He was grinning maniacally and he had Harry’s eyes. Harry was using him for support, and he rushed over to grab her as she teatered. 

Her glamours had shattered. After the task and the battle her core must not have been able to support them. 

He glanced over and saw Marek and Ralph still standing, though Marek leaned heavily on a grave marker. 

“C’mon, Harry. We need to go.”

He shouldn’t have said her name. He couldn't think. Had the crowd seen her face?

He started to pull her toward the ward line to apparate out, but she was resisting. He looked down and her eyes were locked on the goblet. Lying on the ground. 

“I can’t go. I can’t go with you. I have to get the goblet. I have to win.”

She was limping towards it. He tried to pull her back, but she winced and pain wracked through her body.

Harry wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t risk her secrets in a tournament like this if she wasn’t coerced. Leo had known this for months. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that that coercion might come with a vow. He glanced between the cup and Harry then back at a bleeding Marek. 

“She needs to finish this,” the green-eyed boy said. “I’ll take care of things here.”

He made a gesture with his hand and the cup flew before him. Leo made sure Harry was secure in his arms before stepping closer to let her take it. 

They were standing now, him supporting her, on stage in front of the country, the world and everyone she’d ever met. Harry had made enemy’s tonight. Now was the time to help her brave them.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if formatting isn't right. I haven't posted to AO3 before. Let me know about any errors or if there's something I should do differently.


End file.
